


counting

by jadedgalaxies (Emeraldxoxo)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Sports injuries, inferiority complex to the max, its tough raising a teen boy, paternal viktor/yuri, paternal yuuri/yuri, reporters are dicks, they try to work stuff out but its hard, yuuri and viktor for best dads tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 04:24:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8734792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emeraldxoxo/pseuds/jadedgalaxies
Summary: The first time he gets on the ice, he’s five and he can’t stop smiling. The fortieth time, he’s six and can skate faster than his dads.The thousandth time, he’s twelve and winning his first gold medal.The four thousandth time, he’s 15, angry and losing. The last time he steps on the ice, he’s sixteen and he can’t feel his leg. [Viktuuri dads AU]





	

**Author's Note:**

> so i played around with russian and japanese throughout so I'll provide a quick guide on the words i use lolol
> 
> Japanese  
> とうちゃん (touchan): dad  
> クソジジイ (kusojiji): shitty dad (basically)  
> がんばって (ganbatte): do your best/good luck  
> くたばれ (kutabare): go to hell/drop dead  
> Russian (tbh i don't know any russian so thanks google)  
> папа (papa?) : dad  
> малыш (mah-LYSH): a little one  
> Заткнись (Zatknis): shut the hell up  
> (if i forgot any lemme know and I'll add them to this list.)

The only parents Yuri’s ever had were Viktor and Yuuri. He remembers the orphanage, vaguely, sweaty children, lukewarm soup and cold, hard beds. He was only five, sitting on the icy wood in a Russian orphanage, holding his single possession (a ratting corduroy bear that caused a fight when a girl tried to take it from him), when Viktor and Yuuri blew in. He remembers the children flocking to them – National heroes! The best figure skaters in the world! – adoration filling their eyes. He remembers Viktor, charming and kind, talking to each of the children while Yuuri talked to Matron Baranovskaya. Yuri hadn’t moved from his spot on the floor, having already accepted he would likely live in the orphanage for the rest of his childhood.

Until Yuuri looked at him. It was by complete chance that Yuuri would look away from Baranovskaya’s harsh eyes and meet Yuri’s. But he did. And the next thing Yuri knew, his future father was kneeling next to him, asking him gentle questions that filled the little Russian boy with hope. The moment he let Yuuri hold his bear, Ivan, was the moment Yuri truly believed he’d found a home.

A week later, he was sitting in the back of Viktor and Yuuri’s car, proud to have parents he could call his own.

* * *

 

The first time he gets on the ice, he’s five and he can’t stop smiling. Viktor had rented out the skating rink and they were alone to bond. Yuri had only been living with his new parents’ for a week now but everything seemed like a dream world. His dads’ had two big poodles that now found themselves sleeping with Yuri (who didn’t really mind but he was waiting for the right time to tell his dads’ he preferred cats) and his room was modest but really nice.

The moment Yuuri had finished lacing his skates, Yuri was hobbling over to the ice, trembling with excitement. He had never been to an ice rink before and the little blonde boy was just losing his mind. Yuuri held his hand, helping him onto the ice.

“Yurio! Skate over to папа!” Viktor says, waving excitedly from the middle of the rink. Yuri had initially been against the nickname, but when he saw how much affection both Viktor and Yuuri used when they murmured it in his ear when they thought he was sleeping, he figured it wasn't so bad.

His knees kept bumping and he almost slipped the moment he was on the ice, but Yuuri is there, holding his hand, warm and loving.

“Let goとうちゃん, I can do this,” Yuri says, confidently and Yuuri smiles gently. Yuri’s Japanese is limited only to the level of dad, but he's confident he will learn so he could talk to his dad. He’d caught Viktor and Yuuri speaking in rabid English one time, so Yuri figures he’d better learn that too. Having multilingual parents is difficult. Yuuri let's go of his hand and for a moment, Yuri is afraid he’ll fall. But, he slid his one foot forward and all of the sudden, he's skating – not well, his legs were still quaking like mad and he was fairly slow, but the moment the Viktor scoops him up into his arms, he feels like he could fly.       

“Yuuri!! Did you see that?! He’s a natural!” Viktor yells, squeezing Yuri and kissing his face. Yuuri skates over, hugging both Yuri and Viktor. Yuri feels a swell of pride well up in his chest, he’s made his national champion figure skating parents’ proud of him.

“Yurio, you were wonderful,” he says, his brown eyes shimmering with affection to the likes that Yuri had never experienced before. His smile grew, infinitely larger, filling his round cheeks.

Viktor set him back down on the ice and, while he held his dads’ hands as they skated around the rink, he decides he's going to ask for lessons.

* * *

The fortieth time, he’s six and can skate faster than his dads. Or at least in Yuri’s mind, as he challenges Viktor to a race and wins. He’s starting to wonder if Viktor let him win, since Yuri had collapsed, completely winded but Viktor looked no more ruffled than usual.

Yuuri skates over to him, dropping down to show Yuri the stopwatch. “You beat your record Yurio!” He was three seconds faster than three days ago. Yuri beamed up at his dad, excitement bursting in his beautiful green eyes.

“I did it とうちゃん!” He almost knocks Yuuri’s phone from his hand when he bounces up and hugs him. “If I’m faster than папа than I must be faster than you!” Yuuri grins.

“You’ll have to race me to find out, Yurio,” he teases, lifting Yuri up with him, holding him in his arms. Viktor was suddenly there, pinching Yuri’s cheek affectionately and snatching Yuuri’s phone.

“Fifteen Rubles on Yurio~!” Viktor sang, winking at their son. Yuri grins smugly.

Yuuri arches his eyebrow, a tilt to his mouth in a way that Yuri hadn’t really seen on his face before. “I’ll see your Rubles and raise you to thirty Yen.”

Viktor’s grin grew. “You’re on.”

Yuri watches this exchange curiously, wondering just how much money was riding on this bet. “I want to add ten Rubles!” Yuri broke in. “On my win.”

His dads’ smirk. “You’re on, _малыш_ ,” Viktor says, fiddling with Yuuri’s phone. Yuuri sets him down and takes his hand to skate them over to their makeshift start line. Viktor follows them, though at a much slower pace and gets the timer ready.

“Okay, go!”

* * *

The thousandth time, he’s twelve and winning his first gold medal. His uniform is a little itchy but he’d just completed one of the most difficult routines a twelve-year-old boy could ever complete. His on his hands and knees, panting and sweating, when he hears his dads’ over the roar of the crowd. The braid in his hair was coming loose.

“Good job Yurio!!!” his head whips up, meeting the eyes of his incredibly proud parents. They’re practically radiating, shining and so _proud_ of Yuri that his chest swells. He forces himself to his feet, his legs shaking and skates over to his dads. They envelop him in a hug, warm and loving, all things he had desperately sought before they came into his life. Viktor and Yuuri lead him to a chair, and he’s vibrating waiting for his score.

As they wait for the score, Viktor mutters in Yuri’s ear, “Yurio, I thought we said doing those jumps could have been dangerous.”

“But I did it, папа,” Yuri says, defending himself. He doesn’t know why Viktor’s words seemed to stab him but his heart ached.

“You did,” Yuuri weighs in, his arm around Yuri’s shoulders, “but just understand we’re trying to make sure you don’t get hurt.”

Instead of making him feel better like Yuuri intended, his words only serve to rub Yuri the wrong way. He shakes Yuuri’s arm off, feeling an overwhelming wave of anger roll over him. Are they telling him they never did jumps when they were at his age?

When the score comes in, a combined total of 192.57, Yuri ignores his dads and jumps up in excitement. The cameras are trained on him and he can hear the announcer putting him in first place. He ignores the pain in his heart, waving at the crowd and a smile so large and beautiful his fans’ cheering grew louder.

After Yuri changed, beaming at the gold medal he secured around his neck, he ran around the arena looking for his dads.

He stops short and ducks around a pillar. His dads were in an interview.

“So, Viktor, Yuuri, how much would you attest your son’s success to the training you gave him?”

“Much of Yurio’s success comes from his own perseverance. Yurio practices all the time, even when we’re at home,” Yuuri says.

“I see! So now that you two are retired and coaching Yuri, do you think he will ever live up to your legacy? Will we see a return of the legendary Viktor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki in your son?”

“Hmm… Yurio is his own person, so I would like to say it's the birth of a new legend!” Viktor exclaims and suddenly, the interview shifts entirely to Yuuri and Viktor’s career.

Yuri sinks, not sure if it’s from his overwhelming emotions of winning or the crushing knowledge that the media attests everything Yuri’s done to his parents. They didn’t know the hours Yuri had poured into improving. He’d forsaken grades, sleep, skated till his feet were bleeding and gotten back on the ice the next day. His grip tightens on his medal.

He’s going to surpass his dads; he’s going to make the media realize he doesn’t need them to be great.

* * *

The four thousandth time, he’s 15, angry and losing.

Yuri had gone to great lengths to convince his dads’ to let him get a new coach, and his new coach was a bit of a pushover and allowed Yuri to write his own program. Yuri had spent many sleepless nights writing a program that was completely different than anything Yuri or Viktor had ever done with more jumps than was sane.

“Yuri, please, I think you should take out some of the jumps,” Yuuri says, catching hold of his son’s arm as he walks towards the rink. Yuri shakes him off, glaring at his dad.

“クソジジイ don’t tell me what to do,” Yuri snaps and the look of hurt that flashes across Yuuri’s face is only satisfying for a fleeting moment. Yuuri doesn’t try to reach for him again and Yuri can see how hurt Yuuri is in the corners of his eyes.

Yuri turns around, swallowing the ball in his throat and tries to block out the guilt welling in his stomach.

“がんばって, Yurio,” Yuuri whispers and Yuri almost doesn’t catch it. Instead of answering, Yuri throws his jacket at his coach and gets on the ice.

 _He keeps touching down_. The more Yuri falls, touches the ice with his hands, the angry and sloppier he gets. By the end, Yuri has more point deductions than he can count on both hands and he punches the ice until his knuckles bleed and Viktor has to rush onto the ice to collect him.

He leaves the rink before he can hear his score but when he does get it, he wants to hit something, scream, really anything to relieve the anger bubbling in his stomach. 76.87. Yuri can’t remember _ever_ getting a combined score that low before. He shoves passed the interviewers, white hot tears streaking down his cheeks. Yuuri and Viktor are behind him, trying to console him, reassure him that he was just having an off day before Yuri felt himself snapping.

"くたばれ! Заткнись!!” Yuri screams, slipping between the two languages. Viktor and Yuuri froze, staring at their son open-mouth. Yuri’s eyes widen, his dramatic outburst caught on camera and his guilt bursting in his body. “I—I…”

Yuuri’s eyes soften first and he moves to hold Yuri. “Yuri…”

“I’m sorry,” he blurts, his tears blurring his vision to the point where he could barely make his dad’s face out and he turns before Yuuri could hold him. “I… I’ll just go sit in the car.” He ran off before he could say anything else to hurt his parents. How… why would he…?

After Viktor and Yuuri salvaged Yuri’s reputation, they went to the car in silence, wondering what they could possibly say to help their son. Although, when they reached the car, Yuri was curled up in the backseat, his face red and tear stained. Viktor wonders what they could do to help him and Yuuri wraps a blanket around their son and Viktor drives them home.

* * *

The last time he steps on the ice, he’s sixteen and he can’t feel his leg.

Things have been tense with his dads’ since his outburst a few months ago and now that he found himself in another competition, he was ready to prove himself. Maybe if he could regain his momentum, his status, things would be better with his dads.

His routine this time around was even more complicated than the previous year and Yuuri pleaded with him to reconsider since it was dangerous for him. Yuri ignored him, deciding that if he could win with his own power, he could finally apologize to his dads’.

He had a total of seven jumps in a row, starting with a toe loop, two salchows and three axels with a finishing lutz. What he had planned was insane, dangerous and what figure skaters agreed to be impossible. And… they were right.

On the second axel, he didn’t land properly on his blade and he heard a snap and his head hit the ice. For a long, deafening silence, everything was black. There’s a ringing in his ears and he tries to get up but suddenly, he can’t feel his leg. His arm slips out from underneath him, his vision blurry and he collapses against the ice. He might have vomited, though he isn’t entirely sure.

In seconds, Yuuri is kneeling next to him, shouting for someone to call an ambulance. Viktor is impressively calm, though the violent storm in his blue eyes told a different story, as he directed the staff to help his son. Yuuri didn’t touch Yuri, on the off-chance he’d make his injuries worse. Yuri feels like he’s floating.

“とうちゃん,” Yuri whispers, reaching for Yuuri. Yuuri gently took his seeking hand, his brown eyes full of tears.

“You’re going to be okay, Yuri,” he says, his voice a little hoarse. Yuuri has never been more afraid. Yuri moves his head in a sort of vague nod and blacks out despite Yuuri’s pleas to remain awake.

When Yuri wakes up, he’s lying in a hospital bed and his throat is parched. Yuuri’s asleep beside him, his head a tussled mess with huge bags under his eyes. How long has he been here? He doesn’t – or can’t? he’s not entirely sure – sit up but he winces when he tries to move his leg.

“とうちゃん,” Yuri wheezes and Yuuri shoots up, his eyes bloodshot.

“I’m so glad you’re okay Yurio!” he exclaims and gently encases Yuri in his arms. With his free, non-injured arm, Yuri hugs him back. He has all the words he wanted to say to his dad on the tip of his tongue but he’s afraid if he tries to tell him, it won’t make any sense – _it won’t make things right_.

He has so many things he wants to say, wants to apologise for, and yet when he opens his mouth to do so, nothing comes out. When Yuuri pulls back, Viktor walks in holding two coffees and drops them.

“малыш!” Viktor all but yells and is across the room in a second. He hugs Yuri just as gently as Yuuri did and Yuri wants to cry.

“Why do you still love me?” he asks, his voice cracking. “I—I’m nothing but horrible to both of you.” He brings his uninjured knee to his chest, his tears burning his eyes and causing a flash of pain in his skull.

“Because you are hurting right now, Yuri,” Viktor says gently, sitting next to his son’s injured leg, “not in the physical sense but in your heart. I have my suspicions but we’ll wait until you’re ready to tell us.”

“We love you because you’re our son,” Yuuri adds, “there’s nothing else to it. We’ll always be here for you Yuri, for whatever you need.”

* * *

Rehabilitation is difficult. First off, he broke his ankle pretty bad, pulled a bunch of muscles in his calf, dislocated his knee and some of the nerve in his groin were pulled. Plus it took Yuri a couple of weeks before the doctors let him get out of bed, not only from his leg injuries, but from his concussion. He probably wouldn’t be allowed back on the ice for another six months, at the earliest.

Yuuri and Viktor were there for him, cheering him on from the sidelines, bringing him hot chocolate or pirozhki. They were at his beck and call, coming to him when he needed them. They were indulgent, yet if he began to get greedy, they were firm with him.

He’s less angry, now, as he can’t really separate his emotions from the muddled mess they’ve been left in. They tell him to take it one step at a time and if he falls, they’ll be there to catch him. He doesn’t know how to apologize properly to them. He wants to make amends, start anew with his dads and hopefully return to figure skating.     

He catches them dancing, one time, outside his hospital room. Although, if he’s being honest, they were only swaying. It’s lovely, he can’t help but think and they break apart when a reporter sneaks up on them.

“Excuse me,” she says, trying to sneak around them to Yuri’s room.

“Excuse me,” Viktor echoes, though his tone is dark and Yuri shivers, glad he’s never been on the receiving end of that tone. “You can’t go in there.”

She stops. “I just wanted to ask him a few questions.”

Yuuri steps in front of the door, obscuring Yuri’s view of the scene unfolding outside his room. “We’d like you to appreciate our son’s privacy.”

“You two legends always liked a photo op,” she retaliates.

There’s that word again, _legend_ , that has Yuri reeling back into his room. “Yuri is his own person,” Viktor snaps, “when he becomes a legend, it will because of _his_ strengths, not ours.”

Yuri freezes. “That’s right,” Yuuri chimes in, “we may guide Yuri in his career but he can only get there himself. We will always support him. He’s been struggling lately and although Viktor and I don't know how to help him, we will do what he needs us to do to help him, even if that means leaving him… I don’t know why I’m tell you this.”

Yuri throws open the door, throwing himself into Yuuri’s surprised arms. Thankfully, the reporter took the hint and backed off (although Viktor’s glare could have been a factor since the man rarely glared).

“I don’t want you to leave me!” he blurts, squeezing Yuuri through the pain in his arm from his fractured wrist. “I… just… you both are so successful that I… I didn’t want to be in your shadow forever. I tried so hard to make a name for myself that wasn’t tied to yours that… that I started to push you away.”

Yuuri holds his son’s face. “Viktor and I were suspecting that was the cause.”

“Yurio,” Viktor says, coming up to hug his family, “you will become a wonderful figure-skater and we’ll support you – from the sidelines. You can have any coach you want, skate any program you want, as long as you promise us you won’t be so reckless anymore. You are our son, Yuri, and we love you so we will do what we can to help you.”

Yuuri kisses his forehead. “As long as you still want to figure-skate, that is.”

Yuri blushes, looking away from his dads. “Gross.”

Viktor and Yuuri laugh, hugging their son as tightly as they could without hurting him. They were a long way away from a perfect family, they still had a long way to go to help Yuri but, he decided, that in order for him to ever feel better, he had to skate his own routine and win. After their talk, Yuri began planning a new program, a better one that he could win with.

As he healed, a few changes happened. Viktor introduced Yuri to his former coach, Yakov, who agreed to take Yuri on after seeing Yuri’s choreography plans. Viktor swears he hadn’t meant for Yakov to coach Yuri, he was just the only man Viktor could think of who could give Yuri the unbiased opinion he craved. On the day he left the hospital, Yuuri greeted him in the car with a birman kitten he promptly named Kolya. Three weeks after he left the hospital, after the months of physical therapy, the first time he steps on the ice, it’s like he’s fallen back into a dream.

He doesn’t do anything too crazy, he merely skates around the rink a few time among the kids using the skate-walkers and adults doing easy spins while his dads watch him from the sidelines. He’d forgotten how much he loves skating.

For the first time in a long time, there’s a blinding, child-like smile on Yuri’s face and his dads are yelling how much they love him on the other side of the Plexiglas.

The fortieth time, he’s boarding on seventeen and can do jumps again.

The thousandth time, he’s a few months shy of eighteen, winning the Grand Prix with his new program and can finally be free of his dads’ overwhelming shadow to just be their son who makes history.

He stops counting after that.

 

**Author's Note:**

> haha up top for best dads viktor and yuuri amirite hope you enjoyed 
> 
> i also know nothing about skating so i used my best guess on everything so , to all figure-skaters who read this, i am so sorry lolol


End file.
